


That Went Well

by broodywolf



Series: Fenhawke Week Fics [9]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Murphy's Law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broodywolf/pseuds/broodywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Hawke try to spend a romantic evening together. Naturally, everything goes wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Went Well

Hawke should have been able to guess that their first proper attempt at a romantic evening together would be a complete disaster. It seemed oddly fitting in a way.

It started when they arrived for dinner. They were barely able to step foot inside when they were informed with a sneer that the establishment did not serve “knife-ears.”

“Let’s go, Hawke,” Fenris muttered with a sneer, pulling her towards the exit. She could see the indignant anger hiding behind his features, though. She stepped forward.

“Do you know who I am?” she demanded.

“I am sorry, messere,” the sniveling man said, in a voice that told her he very much was not sorry at all, “but our policy is clear.”

“I’m the bloody _Champion_ of _Kirkwall_ ,” she seethed, hands clenching into fists. “Sure you don’t want to rethink your _policy_?”

The man balked, eyes wide, as he stammered an apology. “I am so sorry, messere—er,

Champion.” He bowed low, and Hawke looked down her nose at him, not bothering to hide her contempt. “If you and your… companion will follow me.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, with a smile that was all teeth. “Fenris and I will be leaving, though. I’m afraid we do not dine with bigots.”

She turned on her heel and left, Fenris trailing behind her.

“You did not have to do that,” he said once they were outside.

“I know. I could have just left, but it’s just so much fun to watch them squirm,” she said with the same harsh grin, though now there was true mirth behind it.

“It was satisfying to watch, I grant you that. But you need not fight my battles for me.”

She raised a gentle hand to his face, turning his gaze to meet hers.

“I didn’t do it because I think you can’t. I did it because you shouldn’t have to.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and she could tell by his smirk that they still had an audience. She grinned against his lips as one of his hands slid over the curve of her ass to pull her closer.

“So, what now?” he asked, leaning back so they could see each other, but not releasing his hold on her.

“Hmm. Pies from that vendor you love so much?”

She saw the light spark in his eyes and knew his answer before he could speak it. This particular vendor was very generous with the spices in his meat pies, and she knew they were Fenris’s favorite.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, kissing her again and reluctantly removing his hands from her body. She took his hand in hers and he smiled. 

They managed the walk to Lowtown without further incident. They got their pies, and aside from a slight burn on her tongue everything seemed to be going well. The sun was setting, and the night was balmy and pleasant as they meandered back towards Hightown.

“You look nice tonight,” Fenris said, voice low as he looked at her through the curtain of his hair. “I meant to mention earlier.”

She had, for once, decided to leave her armor behind. She’d tried on a dress, but it felt wrong, like she was making herself into something she wasn’t. It was one thing when she had to attend parties in Hightown, but it wouldn’t have felt right around Fenris. Tonight, she needed to just be herself, so she’d opted for a pair of comfortable but clean leggings, and a long tunic in a sumptuous, deep red fabric.

“Thanks,” she said, and naively let herself believe they’d managed to turn the evening around.

Of course, that was when everything went to shit.

The _shing_ of metal against metal met her ears as a group of thugs stepped out of an alleyway, cutting off their path.

Five of them. Three armed with swords, one with daggers, one archer. Not enough ordinarily for her or Fenris to even get winded, but she had no weapon ( _foolish_ , she _knew_ better), and no armor. She suddenly felt very vulnerable in her pretty tunic, and by the flash of worry in Fenris’s eyes, he was having the same thought.

Fenris stepped in front of her, drawing his sword. She had a moment of fierce gratitude that she hadn’t been able to talk him out of bringing the thing. Not that he was helpless without it, but without the protection her armor she was glad for the nearly six feet of honed steel between her and the thugs.

She let Fenris draw their attention, let them think she was defenseless until their eyes were off her, and then she summoned fire.

She took care of the archer first, not wanting to risk either of them taking an arrow without any armor to deflect it. She easily set his clothing ablaze, and he took off screaming. _One down_.

The three swordsmen were circling Fenris, attempting to surround him. Trying her best not to hit Fenris—she needed a staff, she had no control like this—she flung out her hand, sending a wave of ice at the feet of the attackers. Thus immobilized, they were no match for Fenris, and he dispatched them easily. He turned, shooting her a grateful look, but his eyes widened suddenly—

“ _Hawke!_ ” he shouted.

She turned, hands raising to gather fire—not fast enough.

The rogue’s dagger slashed her side, and as she stepped backwards Fenris was in front of her in a flash of blue light, arm thrust clean through her attacker’s chest. He withdrew his arm with a wet, squelching sound, and rushed to her side.

“Hawke,” he said, eyes wide with panic. He looked down, frantically checking her for injuries.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him. “She got me alright,” she added with a slight hiss. “Damn, that stings. Shallow, though. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Are you certain?” he asked, eyebrows knitted in a worried line. “I am not always inclined to trust your definition of _fine_.”

“I mean it this time. Slap a bandage on it and I’ll be good to go.” She smiled at him, running her hands down his arms in a soothing gesture. “Wish I could say the same for my new tunic, though,” she added with a slight pout.

“The tunic can be replaced,” Fenris said. “ _You_ cannot.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “Well, on the bright side, I don’t think tonight can get any worse now!”

Naturally, that was when the sky decided to open above them, only giving a few fat drops in warning before they were caught in the sudden deluge.

She stared at Fenris for several moments, her mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. They were soaked through in seconds, their sopping clothes sticking to their skin. Fenris’s hair was plastered to his forehead, and he raised a hand to push it out of his face, frowning slightly as he blinked the rain out of his eyes.

Hawke laughed. A quick, startled huff at first but then she was doubled over, shoulders shaking with her uncontrollable mirth. A moment later Fenris’s low chuckle joined hers, and when she looked up there was a smile on his face.

“Worst. Date. Ever,” she said, still shaking with laughter.

“I don’t know,” said Fenris. “There could be hail. Or giant spiders, those would ruin a date easily enough. One of us could have food poisoning from the pies…”

“Don’t say that! You’ll make it happen!” Hawke laughed, shoving him playfully.

Fenris set his hands on her waist, carefully avoiding the gash above her hip.

“Hawke, any evening spent in your company is perfect to me,” he said.

She couldn’t possibly come up with words to match that, so she grabbed the back of his neck to reel him in for a kiss. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and his body was warm through their sopping clothes where they were pressed together. She smiled against his lips, sliding her hand over his drenched hair.

He was right. As long as she was with him, the rest didn’t matter.


End file.
